Butler or Father?
by AnyaLehnsherr
Summary: Alfred deals with the death of his employers, becoming a guardian, and helping a traumatized young boy at the same time. How will he do it?
1. The Phone Call

Alfred was happy to have the evening off. Dr. and Mrs. Wayne were taking little Bruce to the opera. Though Alfred knew he would enjoy his night off, he felt a bit sorry for Bruce. He didn't think a child would want to sit through an entire opera. He knew he would have been bored by it at that age. But it was good for Thomas and Martha to have a night with their son. They spent as much time with him as they could, but they were busy people. They truly loved Bruce, and Alfred knew that even if Bruce didn't appreciate the opera tonight, he would someday appreciate his parents including him.

Alfred sat down with his tea and opened his book. It was his favorite mystery book. He enjoyed it so much that he barely noticed the time. He expected the Wayne family would be back by now. Then he heard the phone ringing.

"_It must be Master Wayne. I hope everything is alright." _Nothing could have prepared him for the truth.

"You've reached Wayne Manor."

"Hello. This is Officer Gordon with the Gotham Police Department."

"Good evening, Officer. Is everything alright?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. There's been an incident involving the Wayne family."

This worried Alfred. He had worked for the Wayne family for a long time. He knew they couldn't have done anything wrong. Neither Dr. nor Mrs. Wayne would have ever hurt a fly. He knew if there had truly been an incident, his employers had to have been the victims, not the perpetrators.

"Oh dear. What happened?"

"There was a mugging, sir. There's no easy way of telling you this. Thomas and Martha Wayne were shot. Neither of them survived. I'm so sorry, sir."

Alfred had never been so full of emotions. He felt shocked, to say the least. He almost didn't believe it. Dr. and Mrs. Wayne had been so good to him. He was their employee, sure, but they always treated him with respect and even care. He was almost a member of the family. Then his thoughts rushed to Bruce. Was the boy alright? Alfred could hardly bear the loss of Dr. and Mrs. Wayne, let alone the child.

"Sir? Are you there?"

"Yes, Officer. I'm just shocked that's all. Their son was with them tonight. Is he there? Is he alright?"

"He's here. He wasn't injured, thankfully. He witnessed the shooting, though. He's still in shock. We're going to need to have someone pick him up. We are done questioning him for tonight. He's been through enough."

"I understand. I'll be at the station to pick him up as soon as possible."

"Thank you, sir."

Alfred got into the car as quickly as he could. He was grief-stricken for Thomas and Martha, but he knew he couldn't show too much in front of Bruce. He couldn't imagine the pain Bruce must be going through. The very thought filled Alfred with a new pain. Alfred had known Bruce since Martha gave birth to him in Wayne Manor. Alfred didn't simply view Bruce as the son of his employers. He viewed Bruce as the son he never had. He knew Bruce needed someone right now. He was determined to help the child through this however he could. He didn't know how he would accomplish this, though. He just hoped he would figure it out. Alfred took a moment to gather his thoughts before walking into the police station. He walked up to the front desk.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Yes. I'm Alfred Pennyworth. I'm the Wayne family butler. I was told to come pick him up."

"Of course. I'll take you to him."

After walking through the station a little, Alfred saw Bruce curled up in a chair. A wave of pain shot through Alfred. Seeing the usually playful boy looking so traumatized, so helpless, hurt him. Alfred thanked the officer who showed him there and was greeted by another man.

"Are you Alfred Pennyworth? I'm Officer Gordon. We spoke on the phone."

"Yes. Good evening, Officer." Even on a night like tonight, it wasn't Alfred's way to be impolite.

"Bruce is over here. As far as we can tell, the Waynes intended you to be his legal guardian if anything happened to him. Are you aware of that?"

Alfred had known that. He had gone through his employers' arrangements with them. He never would have imagined it would be necessary, though.

"Yes. We went over their affairs together." A pained look washed over Alfred's face. "I told Dr. Wayne he was too young to think about such things. He told me he needed to look out for Bruce."

"Well, there's going to be quite a bit of paperwork in the future to make it official, but, given the circumstances, we'll just send him home with you tonight if that's ok, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Yes, of course. I think I should be getting him home soon."

"He's had a rough night. We may need to ask him more questions later. He was too traumatized when we found him to give a description of their killer, which would be useful. The poor kid was the only witness. But tonight he's had enough."

"Yes, I suppose he has."

"You knew them well, sir?"

"Yes, very well. The Waynes might as well be, er, might as well have been a part of my family."

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Pennyworth."

"So am I, Officer. But now isn't the time. Bruce needs me."


	2. Road Ahead

"I'll let you take him now." The officer walked over to the boy. "Bruce? You can go now. Mr. Pennyworth says he'll drive you home. Thank you for telling us what happened, Bruce. You were so brave tonight."

"Thank you for taking care of the boy, Officer Gordon."

"It was the least I could do. The Waynes did a lot of good for this city. They gave a lot of financial support to the Gotham PD. All of us owed them so much. This city will be so different without them. They were good people, weren't they?"

"The best I've met, sir. Come along, Master Bruce."

Bruce looked like he was in a daze. He nodded and walked toward Alfred. Alfred tried to put his arm around Bruce, but the boy flinched at Alfred's touch. Alfred's heart sank. He had been wondering how he would handle being a guardian at all since he got the phone call. But at that moment he realized he wouldn't just be any young boy's guardian. He would be a traumatized young boy's guardian, and the closest thing this boy would ever have to a father again. So many thoughts raced through Alfred's mind as he walked Bruce to the car. As he was driving, Alfred kept glancing to the back seat to keep an eye on Bruce. He wanted to put the poor child next to him in the front seat, but it was always Dr. Wayne's rule that Bruce couldn't ride in the front seat until he was 12. Alfred felt he should honor that tonight.

"The world hasn't ended tonight, Master Bruce. It has lost two very good people, but it hasn't ended." Alfred didn't know what else he could say. How do you go about talking to a child who has been through so much in one night? He wished he could heal the boy's pain with a single sentence, but he knew that was impossible. He just hoped he wouldn't say anything that made it worse. He thought he saw a flicker of hope on Bruce's face through the pain. But perhaps he was just seeing what he wanted to see. Either way, it didn't last long. A nearby car backfired while they were stopped at a light. At the noise Bruce immediately curled up and started screaming. Alfred was startled. He had no idea how to calm Bruce down. He pulled over the car and turned around. He got out and climbed into the back seat with Bruce.

"It's ok, Master Bruce. It was only a car. It's alright. Master Bruce, you're safe. I'm here to protect you."

Alfred tried to hold Bruce in his arms. Bruce reflexively fought at first, but eventually fell into his embrace. He stopped screaming, but started crying. Sobbing, really.

"Dad tried to protect me. He tried to protect me and Mom. He couldn't protect us, Alfred. No one protected us. They're gone. They're gone now because no one protected us. Now I don't have them to protect me. How will I be safe without them?"

"I'm so sorry, Master Bruce. But you will be safe with me. I promise I will do anything I can to protect you." Alfred didn't know what else he could say. He knew Bruce wouldn't be all better right away. But he had to do his best to help the boy. He owed Thomas and Martha that.

"Someday I'm going to be a cop, Alfred. I'm going to protect everyone in Gotham. No one will be killed ever again when I'm a cop. I'll make sure of it, Alfred."

"I'm sure you will, Master Bruce. You will be a very good cop someday. You're a good kid. You take after your parents like that. They were good too."

"They were so good. Why did someone kill them? Why did that man kill them, Alfred? They were so good."

"They were good. It wasn't their fault. It was that man's fault. They were very good. He was very bad."

"I hate him. I hate him. He took Mom and Dad from me. I hate him, Alfred."

"It's not good to hate, Master Bruce. It hurts us more than it hurts the other person, after all."

"I don't care. I hate him. I'll never stop hating him."

"The police will catch him. He'll get his punishment soon."

"What if they don't catch him? Do you think he'll come to kill me?"

"I don't think he will. But if he does, I will stop him. Do you understand me? You are safe now."

"No one in Gotham is safe until all the criminals are stopped. My dad couldn't stop him. The police can't stop him. But some day I'll stop him. I'll stop all the criminals when I'm a cop. I'll make Gotham safe someday."

"I hope you do." Gotham had never been a very safe city. Alfred doubted anything could change that. But he had to let the kid have hope for something on this dark night of his life. Alfred sat with the boy, hoping he would stop crying. He didn't want to let the boy cry alone in the back seat, but he had to get Bruce home. Bruce clung to him as he cried. He cried and cried for what felt to Alfred like an eternity. When he stopped crying, Alfred tentatively pulled away.

"There, there, Master Bruce. You're alright, see? Let's get you home now."

Bruce held on to Alfred for a few more moments before nodding and releasing him. Alfred left the back seat and resumed driving. He knew it would be a long road ahead of them, but he knew he wanted to be there every step of the way for Bruce.


	3. The Nightmare

As soon as they got home, Alfred asked Bruce if he wanted something to eat or drink. He didn't think the boy had dinner before going to the opera. But Bruce just shook his head.

"Well, then, Master Bruce, let's get you to bed. You've had a rough day. Sleep will be good for you."

Bruce and Alfred went up the stairs. Alfred waited as Bruce got himself ready and then tucked him into bed.

"Have a good sleep. Remember, I'm just down the hall if you need me. The old rule that you couldn't wake me is gone. If you need me, even if I'm asleep, all you need to do is wake me up and ask."

Alfred shut off the light and turned around to leave. But as he was walking away, he heard Bruce whimpering like he was going to cry.

"Alfred? I'm so scared. Could you leave the light on?"

"Of course." Alfred turned around and flipped the switch on. "See? There's nothing to be afraid of. Not in here." And so Alfred turned to walk away again.

"Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"What if he comes to get me?"

"He won't. I won't let him. You sleep now, ok? Like I said, I'm right down the hall."

"C-could-," Bruce tentatively stammered, "could you please stay here until I fall asleep? Please?"

"If that's what you need, of course I will." Alfred pulled up a chair beside Bruce's bed. He tentatively reached out to lay a calming hand on Bruce's shoulder, but he didn't know if the boy would like that. Before he withdrew his hand, however, Bruce grabbed it. Alfred put his other hand on Bruce's shoulder.

Alfred woke up to hear Bruce screaming again. He found himself still in the same chair. He hadn't realized he had fallen asleep. He didn't know who had fallen asleep first, him or Bruce. But that didn't matter now.

"Master Bruce?"

Bruce rolled over, thrashing. Alfred realized that Bruce was still asleep. He was having a nightmare. Alfred didn't know what to do. Should he wake Bruce, or let him come out of the nightmare naturally? He wanted so desperately to wake Bruce, to free him of his nightmare. But he knew that might be more dangerous, more jarring for Bruce. He put his hand gently on Bruce's shoulder, not trying to wake him, but trying to calm him. Perhaps he could ease Bruce's fear. He slowly moved his hand to Bruce's back, rubbing it. Bruce still had a grimace on his face, but he stopped thrashing. Suddenly, Bruce's eyes opened wide. Bruce panicked. He soon sat straight up. He looked around worriedly, as if he expected to see his parents' killer in the corner. It occurred to Alfred that might have been precisely what Bruce had been thinking. Alfred moved toward Bruce and put his arm around him.

"Hush. Hush. You're fine. You're fine, Master Bruce. I'm right here. I'm right here, Master Bruce."

Much like last night after the car backfired, Bruce's terror turned to tears. Alfred wondered how long the boy would be stuck in this traumatized loop. Fear, flashback, grief. Fear, flashback, grief. Alfred was beginning to hate the man who killed Thomas and Martha, not only out of his grief for them, but out of his sorrow for young Bruce. No child deserved to be hurt like this.

"He came here for me. He came to kill me, Alfred. Then Mom and Dad's ghosts came. They said I could go with them if he killed me. I wanted to be with them. But I don't want to die. I don't want him to kill me. But I want to be with Mom and Dad. Why are they gone, Alfred? Why can't I be with them?"

Bruce sobbed and sobbed while Alfred held him. Alfred didn't answer. He couldn't. What answer could he give to the question of why? Even if he had an answer, he knew it wouldn't be satisfactory. But he would never have an answer for the boy. Finally Bruce's sobs stopped. Alfred realized Bruce had fallen asleep again. He took this opportunity to pull away and gently lie Bruce back down. He considered leaving the room, but he didn't want for Bruce to wake up alone. He was so tired. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed and sleep. He understood Bruce needed him.

He did wonder, though, how long would Bruce need him? He was willing to do anything Bruce needed tonight, but how long would he be able to keep this up? How long would it be before Bruce's needs surpassed his patience? After all, Alfred needed sleep too. In the future Alfred would have to set certain boundaries with Bruce. How would he know what boundaries he could set, and what would be expecting too much from the child? He knew it would be challenging to continue sleeping in a chair next to Bruce's bed with the lights on for more than just one night. He figured he could stand to do it for few nights if that's what Bruce needed. But what if Bruce requested it after it became too much for Alfred? And how long would Bruce need Alfred to be willing and able to drop everything to comfort him? Of course, Alfred was willing to do whatever it took tonight. But would he ever stop feeling that way? At some point, Bruce would have to learn to move forward from his grief and trauma. Alfred just hoped he would know when that time came. Alfred didn't know how he would figure all this out.

For a brief moment he cursed the day he had agreed with Dr. Wayne to be Bruce's legal guardian if such a tragedy as this struck. He then felt a great surge of guilt. How could he think something so horrible? Not only did he think he was being incredibly selfish, he realized he had owed the Wayne family that much. They had been so good to him. For the first time, Alfred allowed himself to feel the full weight of his grief. After the phone call, he had been too shocked, and when he picked Bruce up at the police station, he had ignored his own pain so he could concentrate on the child. But he did grieve for Thomas and Martha Wayne.

They had been such good employers. More than that, they had been such good people. They were rich, but they weren't snooty. They never treated Alfred as less than them. In fact, they had always included him in private celebrations. Of course, he had been on staff for their larger gatherings, most of which were charitable benefits. But they made a point to have smaller, private celebrations too, which they often invited Alfred to participate in. Usually it was just them and Bruce for birthdays and holidays. They had always done whatever they could to make sure Bruce knew he was loved, and yet made sure that, despite their wealth, he wasn't too spoiled. He wasn't raised to take his wealth for granted. They used their wealth and status in the city to benefit the poor. It wasn't just him and Bruce who had suffered a loss. It was all of Gotham. Gotham had lost two heroes that night. And goodness knows Gotham needs all the heroes it can get.


	4. A Normal Day

Alfred woke up the next morning, sore and tired from the night of sleep in the chair. He realized it was a little later than he usually slept, which made sense given how poorly he slept the night before. He wished everything he remembered from the night before had only been a bad dream, but he knew that wasn't true. He couldn't imagine Bruce's pain waking up to face the first day of his life without his parents. Alfred realized he had a lot to do in the next few days: funeral arrangements, filling out paperwork for legally becoming Bruce's guardian, contacting the police station to see if they still needed to question Bruce, and all of this while taking care of a young boy. He figured he needed to take it one step at a time. He would start by trying to have as normal a day as possible with Bruce, for both of their sakes. He had to make Bruce breakfast now. He didn't want to wake Bruce, but he didn't want to leave him alone either. Thankfully, Bruce made it easy on him by waking up at that moment. After a moment, the boy sat up and looked at Alfred, as if checking to see if he was still there for him.

"Good morning, Master Bruce."

Bruce didn't respond at first, but then seemed to catch himself being impolite. Thomas and Martha had always impressed on Bruce the importance of politeness.

"Morning, Alfred."

"How about we go downstairs and I'll fix you some breakfast?"

Bruce nodded. Alfred walked with him downstairs. But he looked confused when Alfred walked toward the kitchen. Normally Bruce wasn't in the kitchen when anyone cooked. Normally he would run and play, but today he didn't want to. He was too sad to play and still too afraid to want to leave Alfred.

"You can come in with me, Master Bruce. It's ok. I'll show you how to make eggs the way you like them. How would you like that?"

Bruce weakly smiled. Alfred hoped he would see more of that smile soon, but he knew it would take time. Alfred cooked while showing Bruce the steps. Bruce didn't seem too interested, but Alfred thought it would be good to try to keep the boy's mind off his grief for right now.

"There. See? That wasn't too complicated. Let's eat now."

Alfred and Bruce sat down in the dining room across from each other. Bruce picked at his food, taking the occasional bite. Bruce looked like he was in a daze. Then his face changed, like he thought of something. Bruce looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"Are you alright, Master Bruce?"

"It- it-" Bruce had difficulty saying what he was thinking. "It was m-my fault. It was all my fault, Alfred."

Alfred was hit with such pity for Bruce. Not only did he have to deal with the loss of his parents, he felt responsible.

"No, no, no. It wasn't your fault. It was only his fault."

"Alfred, I made them leave the theater. I got scared. I made them leave the theater. If I hadn't made them leave the theater, we wouldn't have been in the alley then. We would have left with everyone else. But I made them leave the theater. It was my fault, Alfred."

"No. No. You didn't make that man kill them. It was his choice to kill them. You have to understand this, Bruce. There are people who do bad things out there. That man is one of them. And it is their fault and theirs alone when they do bad things."

"But, if I hadn't gotten scared-"

"He still would be a bad man. He still would do bad things. Do you understand?"

Bruce nodded, but Alfred wasn't sure the message had truly sunk in. He wouldn't press it right now. This probably wasn't the time.

"We have to stop the bad men. That way good people won't be killed by bad people anymore."

"The police will find him. They'll stop him then."

"We need to do better than that. We need to stop all the bad people before they do bad things. Why didn't the police stop him before he did that?"

"They didn't have the chance."

"There are too many bad men in Gotham."

Alfred agreed there. Bruce had had a sheltered life up until that night. Thomas and Martha always taught him about the poverty in Gotham, but they hadn't wanted to scare him by telling him about the crime. Bruce was too young and innocent to have to deal with this. But now it was too late for that: Bruce knew more than any child should about the evil in the world, and even in his own city.


	5. Toys

Bruce kept eating for a little while, but he mostly picked at his food. Alfred wanted Bruce to eat, but he knew he couldn't force the child.

"Are you finished, Master Bruce?" Bruce nodded. Alfred started grabbed the dishes and started walking toward the kitchen.

"You can play now, if you'd like. I have some things I need to do." Alfred wasn't lying. He didn't even know where to begin. The funeral arrangements would likely be very easy. Dr. and Mrs. Wayne had written their wishes in their wills, Alfred was sure. Even if they hadn't, funerals in the Wayne family had been the same for a few generations. He also had to call the Gotham Police Department to make arrangements for Bruce to be asked about the previous night's events. Alfred felt so sorry for Bruce. He didn't want the boy to have to relive that. He was traumatized enough as it was. But he knew the police needed whatever information Bruce could give. And then there was making arrangements to legally become Bruce's legal guardian. He figured it would be easy, given that Dr. and Mrs. Wayne had already made those arrangements.

Bruce looked a little unsure. But he nodded and walked toward his play room. It was just down the hall. He looked back at Alfred, as if looking for approval. Alfred worried the boy was too scared to be alone.

"I'll just be in here. You can come get me if you need anything." Bruce nodded and walked off. After rinsing the dishes, Alfred walked over to the phone. He figured he would call the police department first. He figured they would want to talk to Bruce while the memory was fresh. He looked up and dialed the number.

"You've reached the Gotham Police Department, here to protect and serve, how may I help you?"

"Hello, I'm Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne family butler."

"Yes, we know who you are." The woman on the other end said that like it was nothing. For a moment Alfred was taken aback. While caught up in this whirlwind, he had almost forgotten how famous the Wayne family was in Gotham. It hit him that this was probably the most high profile case Gotham had in years, possibly much longer than that.

"Right. Well, I'm calling because Officer Gordon said they wanted to interview Bruce. I was wondering when they wanted him to come in."

"I'll put you through to Officer Gordon."

"That won't be necessary. I wouldn't want to trouble him."

"Sir, I don't think you understand. The murder of Dr. and Mrs. Wayne is the most high profile case the Gotham PD has ever seen. Whatever Officer Gordon is doing, I can assure you it isn't as important as this. I'm sure he will work around your schedule to plan his interview of Bruce. The entire department would work around their schedules to solve this."

That didn't quite sit right with Alfred. Of course, Thomas and Martha had been wonderful people, and had done great things for the city. But they wouldn't have wanted special treatment. They had always raised Bruce that although he would naturally be offered special treatment, he should never demand it. But Alfred also knew this woman had nothing to do with that, and arguing wouldn't help anything.

"I understand, ma'am." Alfred heard a click, and then a man's voice.

"This is Gordon."

"Hello, Officer. It's Alfred Pennyworth. I do hope I haven't called at a bad time."

"Not at all, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Last night you said you didn't have get a chance to interview Bruce."

"That's correct. The poor child was too traumatized to talk about it."

"Yes. I was wondering if you had a time you wished to interview him."

"What time will work for you? I can come there. It might be more comfortable for him to do the interview in his home. A police station can be a scary setting for a child. Given what he's been through, well, I'm sure you understand."

"Yes. Later today will work. I still have to get the paperwork for becoming Bruce's legal guardian."

"No problem. I can even swing by that office and pick up the forms for you. Does 3 work for you and Bruce?"

"Yes. That would be perfect, Officer Gordon. Thank you."

"Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Do you think Bruce will be alright? I wouldn't want the interview to further traumatize him."

"Well, it won't be pleasant for him. I've done a lot of these interviews. More than I'd care to count. It can be hard on the person. But it needs to be done. He might need some support during and after, but I'm guessing he already needs a little extra support."

"You're right about that, sir."

"Is that all you need right now? If so, I'll be there at 3."

"Yes. That's all I need. Thank you, Officer. We will be ready for you at 3."

Alfred hung up the phone. He was worried about Bruce's interview. Bruce had enough trouble with what had happened as it was. Alfred decided to look in on Bruce. It hadn't been very long. Alfred knew it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. But Bruce had been so scared to be left alone. Something in the poor boy's mind was convinced his parents' killer would come and get him. He was afraid he would never be safe again. Alfred walked to Bruce's play room. He saw Bruce had set up his action figures in a scene. He then realized that scene was a mugging with the bad guy holding up an innocent couple with their child.

"Give me your money and your jewelry!" Bruce was acting out the character's words. Alfred didn't know how to react.

"Ok. It's ok. Here. You can have my wallet. Please don't hurt my son." Bruce acted out the man saying that. Bruce looked terrified and grief-stricken. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, or possibly screaming. But before Alfred stepped in to comfort him, Bruce did something unexpected. He took a different figurine from the toy box and put him in the scene.

"Not so fast, Mister!" Bruce put the figure in front of the villain, in between him and the family. "You're not going to hurt these people tonight."

"Who's going to stop me?" Bruce said this in the bad guy's voice. He moved the bad guy a few inches back, though.

"I am!" Then Bruce had the figure push down the villain. "Go away and never come back!" Bruce threw the bad guy figure across the room.

"Thank you so much!" Bruce said this with the child from the family. "What's your name?"

"That doesn't matter, kid. What matters is that the three of you are safe. That bad guy can't hurt you." Bruce had a little smile on his face. He looked up and saw Alfred. He jumped a little.

"It's alright, Master Bruce. That was quite the game you were playing."

"It's what I wish had happened last night. I wish someone had been there to help us."

"I know you do, Master Bruce. So do I." Alfred didn't know if he should ask this next question, but he was too curious. "Well, I see you have your cop figurines out. Why didn't the cops save the family?"

"You said so last night, Alfred. They didn't have the chance. There are too many bad men in Gotham. You said you agreed with that, right Alfred?"

"Yes, I did. There are."

"Someone needs to help the police." Bruce picked up his good guy figure. "Someone like him."

Alfred stopped himself from responding. He hated the idea of vigilantism. But Bruce was just a boy. He couldn't possibly understand the philosophical repercussions of vigilantism. No, this was a child's natural desire to change a truly terrible event.

"Speaking of which, later today you get to help out the police. Officer Gordon is coming here at 3 to talk about what happened. Does that sound alright?"

"I couldn't help them last night. I was too scared. They tried to ask me questions, but I was too scared. I was too scared to help the police last night."

"You can't feel bad about that. Anyone would have felt scared then. I think you were very brave. It takes a very brave boy to live through that, do you understand?"

"I'll need to be more brave when I'm older."

"Oh, you will be. I assure you, Master Bruce. You will be." Alfred decided to divert the boy's mind. "How about we play a different game? Let's find something fun to play."


	6. The Interview

Almost exactly as the clock struck 3, the doorbell rang. Alfred answered it.

"Good afternoon, Officer Gordon."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Pennyworth."

"You can call me Alfred."

"You can call me Jim, then."

"Would you like something to drink, Jim?"

"No, that's very kind of you, Alfred, but I'm fine. Where's Bruce?"

"I'll take you to him."

"Thanks. It's protocol that you stay in the room, but we prefer it if you don't answer questions for Bruce. I don't mean to sound rude, but you'd be surprised at the things I've heard parents try to coax their kids into saying, even right in front of me."

"Of course, sir."

"You know Bruce better than I do. This interview will likely be hard on him. Now, as hard as it may be, generally I'm going to request that you don't say anything. However, if you think things are getting too hard for him to handle, I want you to speak up. Now, when I say that, I mean only do it if it's absolutely necessary. We need this information from Bruce. We don't really have any leads right now."

"I understand, sir. I'll take you to Bruce. He's just in his play room."

"Bruce? It's me, Officer Gordon. We met last night. Do you remember?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I was too scared last night to tell you anything."

"No, no, no, Bruce. Don't apologize. I've seen adults who were too scared to talk after something like that. It takes a great deal of courage to just survive and admit to yourself that the world hasn't ended. Something very scary happened to you. Feeling scared is ok after something scary happens. Never apologize for feeling scared. Thank you so much for letting me ask you questions."

"You're welcome. Can we do it in here? I like this room."

"Of course, Bruce. I'll be writing down the answers you tell me, ok?"

"Ok."

Bruce shot a worried look at Alfred.

"I'll stay in here too, Master Bruce. Just tell him what he needs to know."

Bruce nodded and looked back at Officer Gordon.

"Ok, Bruce. Tell me about last night."

"Mom and Dad took me to the opera. I can't remember what the show was called." He paused. He looked at Gordon.

"That's ok, Bruce. Go on."

"The show had to do with bats. I hate bats. I got really scared. I asked Dad if we could leave the theater." Bruce cringed. Alfred felt so sorry for him. He knew Bruce felt such guilt over this. He knew how terrifying those memories were for him. But he couldn't intervene.

"Take your time, Bruce." Bruce took a breath.

"Dad nodded and we started leaving the theater. He took us to the side door."

"Do you know what time this was?"

"No. But I think Mom said it was almost the halfway point in the show anyway. I don't know how long the show was."

"That's alright, Bruce. What happened next?"

"We were walking in the alley. This guy came up to us. He pulled out a gun." Bruce looked terrified, as if he were picturing it happening again. Alfred walked over to him and put his hand on Bruce's shoulder.

"Where did the man come from Bruce? Think about it. This is important."

"He was already in the alley. It looked like he was sitting down near the dumpster."

"Are you sure he was already in the alley?"

"Mhm. I remember thinking it was a silly thing to do, just sitting next to a dumpster like that. I noticed him as soon as we walked out. I should have told Mom and Dad. I could have warned them."

"Bruce, that wasn't your fault. You didn't know he was a bad man, ok? None of this was your fault. Can you tell me what the man looked like?"

"He was tall. And dirty. He looked older than Mom and Dad, but his hair isn't gray yet. His hair was brown. It was messy. He had a brown coat on."

"What color was his skin?"

"His skin was light."

"Did you see his eyes?"

"Yeah. They were scary and mean. He looked angry."

"Did you see what color his eyes were? That would really help."

"Um...I think... maybe..." Bruce looked flustered. He looked like he was under pressure.

"It's ok, Bruce."

"I'm so sorry, Officer. I wish I could remember. I want to help you."

"It's ok, Bruce. You're being so helpful."

"I want you to catch him. I want you to put him in jail. I wish I could help you catch him. He needs to be in jail."

"I know, Bruce. You are being helpful." Jim saw what a burden was on Bruce's shoulders. The poor kid seemed to think that if he didn't describe every detail the killer would go free and it would be all his fault.

"Do you want to take a quick break, Bruce? You could play with your toys for a little bit."

"No. I need to help you. Then you can go figure out who he is."

"If you think you really need a break, just tell me, ok? But if you're ok, tell me what happened next."

"He pulled out his gun and asked for money and jewelry. Mom and Dad put their arms in front of me. They tried to protect me. Dad reached into his pocket and handed the man his wallet."

"Did the man say anything else?"

"He pointed the gun at my mom. He yelled at her to take off her jewelry. She was scared. She tried to do it quickly, but her necklace wouldn't come off. It wasn't her fault! Her necklace just wouldn't come off. He got mad at her and reached to yank it off her neck. Dad tried to stop him. Then the man shot him. He shot my dad. Mom screamed, so he shot her too." Bruce broke down crying.

"What did the man do next?"

"He ran away."

"Which way did he go?"

"He went toward the street. Then he went right."

"Are you positive?"

"Yeah. I was scared he would turn around and shoot me."

"Is there anything else you remember about him or what happened?" Jim was almost hoping Bruce would say no. He had done these interviews with adults before, but never with a child. Watching a child tremble and weep was nearly unbearable.

"Dad looked at me and told me not to be afraid. Then he died. They were both dead."

"Thank you so much, Bruce. Everything you told me was very helpful. You were so brave. Thank you so much, Bruce."

"You're going to find him, right? You have to find him, Officer. You have to find him and put him in jail."

"We're going to do our best, Bruce."

"You have to catch him. He needs to be in jail. Gotham won't be safe if he's not in jail. And he deserves to be in jail. He's a bad man. Bad men like him should be in jail."

"I promise you, Bruce. We will do everything we can. Thank you again for your help."

"Mr. Pennyworth," It wasn't natural for Jim to call people by their first name on the job, "I left the paperwork for you on the table in the foyer. If you two don't need anything from me, I'll be going."

"Let me see you out, sir."

Alfred liked Officer Gordon. He hadn't had much interaction with cops in the past, but he had met enough to know Gordon was different. It was more than a job to him. Most people in Gotham, whether cops or not, had given up on the notion that anything could be done to help the crime problem. This made most of the cops give up. Not Gordon. He seemed to genuinely care. Perhaps it was just because this was a high profile case. But Alfred hoped that Gotham finally had a cop that cared. Gotham deserved that.


	7. Thank You

Alfred was nervous. Bruce had been doing better. He was still in mourning and still shaken by what had happened, but he was doing better. After two nights he had allowed Alfred to sleep in his own room. He still slept with the light on and the nightmares still came, but it was progress. He had been eating better too. He finished his dinner last night. But today was the day of the funeral. Alfred wondered how Bruce would handle the service.

"Master Bruce? Are you ready?"

"Just a second, Alfred."

Alfred waited outside Bruce's bedroom. He was wondering what was taking so long. He hoped Bruce was alright. He knocked on Bruce's door.

"Master Bruce? Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

Alfred moved closer to Bruce's door and heard him crying. He opened the door and walked toward Bruce, who was sitting on his bed. He sat next to him and wrapped his arm around him. Alfred was getting used to this. It dawned on him that perhaps Bruce wasn't doing so much better, but rather he was getting more used to handling Bruce's trauma. Perhaps it was both.

"I miss them. Why are they gone? I miss them so much."

"So do I. And that's ok. It's ok that you're sad. It's ok that you miss them. It only means you loved them very much. And they loved you very much. Oh, Master Bruce, they loved you so very much. And today you get to say goodbye to them."

"I don't want to say goodbye. I want them back."

"I know, Master Bruce." Alfred didn't know what else he could say. He still hadn't figured that out.

"I don't want to go."

"There will be lots of people there to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to them. They'll be mad at me."

"Why on earth would they be mad at you? They will be there to say goodbye to your parents and to give you their condolences."

"What does that mean? What are condolences?"

Sometimes Alfred forgot he was speaking to a child. No child this young should have to be in so much pain.

"It means they want to tell you how sorry they are that you lost your parents."

"They will be mad at me. I let my parents die. I shouldn't have made them leave the theater. I should have warned them when I saw him. I should have done something."

"No, no, no, no, no. No one is mad at you."

"Someone should have done something."

"But that someone isn't you."

"What if someone thinks I should have-?"

"No one thinks that. You're only a child, Master Bruce. There was nothing you could have done."

"You really think no one is mad at me?"

"I know that. I guarantee you, no one blames you. Now, let's finish getting ready."

"Mom and Dad would be mad at me. They would be mad at me for not warning them. They tried to protect me from him and they died because of that."

"No, Master Bruce. They would be happy you lived. They would never be mad at you for that. They would be happy you lived and happy you're going to get to grow up to be the man they dreamed you'd be."

"I'm going to catch him when I'm a cop. That would make them happy."

That was one thing Bruce hadn't stopped talking about. Alfred knew it was only natural. He didn't have the heart to tell Bruce that he was expected to take over Wayne Enterprises when he was old enough. He knew Bruce would figure that out when he was older.

"Alfred, what if they see me cry?"

"They'll know just how much you loved your parents. I'm sure half of Gotham shed a tear for them. You won't be the only one crying there. Now, let's finish getting ready. The funeral is very soon."

The service was beautiful, just like everything event that had to do with the Wayne family. The wake was public, but the service was for friends and family only. It looked to Alfred like his guess that "half of Gotham" would cry had been correct. It seemed like the whole city attended. The majority of the Gotham Police Department made appearances at the wake. They explained partners took turns being on duty to make sure everyone could pay their respects.

"Hello, Bruce."

"Hello, Officer Gordon."

"Your parents were very good people. I'm so sorry. I'm working hard to catch the man who did this to them. Your description of him was helpful."

"You need to catch him, Officer."

"We're doing everything we can. I promise you that."

Citizens from all walks of life in the city made appearances, from wealthy citizens who had known them personally to poorer citizens that had been helped by the Wayne foundation. Alfred was asked if they should be turned away, as they did not fit the appearance of the ceremony. Alfred said Thomas and Martha would have wanted them there. They never turned away a Gotham citizen in need.

Alfred stayed near Bruce the whole time, usually keeping his arm protectively wrapped around the child. He wished there was something he could do to make this easier on him. He knew being there for him was the most he could do, but he felt like it wasn't enough. That changed when he put Bruce to bed at night.

"Is there anything else you need, Master Bruce?"

"No."

"Just remember, I'm still right down the hall."

"Ok. Good night, Alfred."

"Good night, Master Bruce."

"Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for making me go to the funeral today. It was good to say goodbye to Mom and Dad. And you were right. No one was mad at me."


	8. Promises

_Years later..._

Bruce woke up sore as ever. It was good to be Batman. Someone needed to be a hero for Gotham. But that didn't make him any less sore afterwards. Thankfully, Alfred had gotten used to this. He walked in with a plate of eggs on a tray, as well as some muscle cream and a pain reliever. He also carried a newspaper.

"Good morning, Master Wayne."

"Morning, Alfred. What have the papers said about me now?"

"About you? They mentioned your generous donation to the children's hospital and commented on the dress that was worn by the lady you brought to the gala."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Well, the Batman made the front page again."

"I'm famous."

"You were already famous enough, sir."

Bruce ate and swallowed the pain reliever Alfred had brought for him. He flinched as he rubbed the muscle cream on his body, and saw a pained look wash over Alfred's face after he took his shirt off. He looked down and saw the bruises on his chest.

"They're not as bad as they look."

"Master Wayne, I have been worried about you since the day you were born. You'll forgive me if I'm worried now that you're risking your life."

"It's beginning to work, Alfred. Crime in Gotham has dropped. They're starting to learn not to come out at night."

Alfred sighed. He knew he would never convince Bruce to permanently put away the cape. A part of him was glad. Proud, really. He knew on some level Martha and Thomas would be proud that their son wanted to help Gotham. He just wondered what they would think of him. He had promised them that if something happened to them, he would take the best care of Bruce possible. He had promised them he would keep Bruce safe. He felt like he was failing in that promise. He knew it was Bruce's choice. Bruce was an adult now. He had succeeded at protecting Bruce through his childhood. But had he not protected Bruce mentally? Had he not been there enough for the boy? He didn't think it was the best sign of mental stability to dress as a bat and fight crime. Of course, he was happy things in Gotham were changing, even if it was only a little.

But he worried so much about Bruce, and not just for his physical safety. He worried that Bruce would never truly learn to cope with his parents' death. He didn't consider the Batman to be a healthy coping mechanism. He knew Bruce truly cared for Gotham, and would have grown up to do something for the city whether or not he had experienced that trauma, but he also knew Bruce only went down this path because of the trauma. He worried Bruce would never stop feeling guilty over their deaths. Bruce said he no longer blamed himself, but Alfred doubted this was true. He couldn't help but wonder if his crime fighting was a way to atone for his "failure" as a child. Of course, Alfred knew it wasn't a failure. There was nothing Bruce could have done to save his parents. He knew Bruce intellectually understood that, but he didn't think his heart believed it. Most of all, he worried about what would happen to Bruce when he was forced to hang up the cape. Even if this line of work didn't kill Bruce, he would at some point need to stop. Alfred thought of men who had been athletes when they were young who constantly longed to go back in time to their "glory days" and thought Bruce would suffer an extreme form of this.

"I know you don't approve, Alfred."

"It's not that, Master Wayne. I worry, sir."

"I know you do. You don't have to stay if you don't want to. You have been free to leave since the minute I turned 18. You are very important to me, Alfred. I wouldn't want the Batman to put you in danger."

"Master Wayne, I made a promise to your parents many years ago that I would do my best to protect you if anything happened to them. That promise never had an expiration date."

"Alfred, you've lived up to their expectations. They only expected you'd be my guardian, and you have fulfilled that promise."

"Even if I believed that I fully fulfilled my promises to your parents, they weren't the only ones I made promises to."

"You fulfilled your promises to me too."

"Those didn't have an expiration date either."

"You can't protect me forever, Alfred."

"I know. But I promised you I would be right here. I promised I would be right here in case you needed anything. I can't make choices for you, and I accept that. But I promised you that no matter what happened, I would be in that bedroom down the hall. I promised you would know where to find me if you needed me and that you could always come to me. And that's a promise I intend to keep."


End file.
